


playing for keeps

by supaprittiest



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Carnival AU, Christmas AU, College AU, F/M, a tangled mess of aus, coffee shop AU, cuddling au, drunk!skye au, pretend relationship au, road trip au, roommates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supaprittiest/pseuds/supaprittiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>here's a little challenge i set up for myself to see how many AUs/cliches/tropes into one fic (while staying in character of course)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. finders keepers

It’s impossible to miss the flare that shoots up into the sky, bright red against the black of the night, along with the crackling noise that splits the comfortable silence of the mountainous forest. It snaps Grant from his groggy state of mind and brings him to full alertness. He casts one glance at Buddy, who was also awoken by the flare.

 

“Come on, let’s go,” he decides, jumping to his feet. For a moment, he wishes he could trade Buddy for a horse, so he could get there faster and easier. But horses are harder to look after, and not as loyal as dogs, and when you live alone in the woods except for your animal companion, you need loyalty.

 

The trek through the woods is a long one, but the first flare is followed by another, and then a third, so it’s easy to track down the source. By the third flare, Grant is nervous. If they’ve fired this many, there must be a real emergency. A plane crash? No, he would’ve seen the plane go down. An attack would be more likely.

 

However, when he arrives at the source, all he sees is two teenage girls aiming another flare at the sky, but no sign of danger. He almost rolls his eyes at the situation that he’s stumbled upon. One looks to the other upon spotting him emerging into their campsite, exchanging words that he cannot hear.

 

“Why are you lighting the flares?” he asks stupidly, feeling intrusive and creepy all of the sudden. Luckily, Buddy has no social awareness, so the girls are distracted by the dog. So much for loyalty, he thinks, as the labrador retriever approaches their makeshift campsite, tail wagging and everything.

 

“I thought they were fireworks,” says one of the girls, with dark eyes that catch his attention even in the dim light of their fire. “Jemma realized that they were flares _after_ we fired the first one, but it’s fun, and it’s not like we’re going to get in any _real_ trouble out here.”

 

“Unless you’re some creepy serial killer who lives in the woods to avoid going to jail,” she adds, and he overlooks the truth in her words. “But I don’t think a serial killer would have a cute little dog with him.”

 

“Unless he was covering up the fact that he’s a killer by carrying a dog around,” says the other girl, Jemma. He feels more than a little uncomfortable, but tries not to let it show. He can do that- he’s done it all his life.

 

“Anyways, since you’re here and your dog is cute, why don’t you stay a bit?” suggests the first girl, ignoring Jemma’s comment, which he appreciates. He looks at Buddy, who is basking in the centre of attention, so he relents. The only socializing he does is with that stupid dog, and occasionally runs into campers like this (although, normally he just steals from them).

 

“So what are you guys doing here?” he asks suspiciously, watching them play with his dog across the fire.

 

“We’re camping, duh,” says the girl whose name he still doesn’t know. “What are _you_ doing here?”

 

“I live here,” he says, but doesn’t delve into the details. As far as they know, he could be living in a nice house with a nice family and all that.

 

“Must be nice,” the girl mutters, and Jemma casts her a concerned look that gives him a million questions that he won’t ask.

 

“It’s alright,” he agrees, letting the silence thicken until it’s just the sound of the fire crackling between the four of them (if you’re including Buddy).

 

“Well then,” says Jemma just as the silence becomes awkward. “Why don’t we make some s’mores?”

 

It’s such a girly idea to propose, and he almost _laughs_. But Jemma is pulling out graham crackers and marshmallows, and he realizes he hasn’t had junk food since Garrett dumped him in the woods all those weeks ago.

 

“Do you want some?” Jemma asks, holding out a marshmallow on a stick for him. He’s about to protest, but he’s miles from where his “camp” was, if you could call it a camp. It was more like an uninhabited spot by the river where all his stuff was. Anyways, miles from his camp, and he’s starving, so he accepts the offer.

 

“I didn’t peg you for a s’mores guy,” says the nameless girl, who grins at him from across the fire. Except, instead of a friendly smile, it comes across as more of a challenge.

 

“I wouldn’t peg you for a camper,” he counters, and she shrugs, holding her marshmallow just over the fire.

 

“Why’s that?” she asks in a suspicious tone, like she's almost offended by his accusation.

 

“Because you can’t roast a marshmallow,” he points out. “If you hold it above the fire, it’s going to catch on fire. You want to hold it over the embers at the bottom so it cooks evenly.”

 

“Oh, sorry I’m not a marshmallow-roasting expert!” she quips, although her marshmallow is burnt already. But despite that, he watches her use it for her s’more anyways, as if she’s proving a point.

 

He watches her take a bite and notices the way she wrinkles her nose at the undeniably burnt taste of the s’more, mingled with the overly-sweet flavors of the chocolate and everything.

 

“Skye, you can make another one, it’s no big deal,” Jemma interjects, already reaching for the marshmallow bag, but _“Skye”_ waves it off, insisting that she can do this. And for the first time in like a month, Grant grins.

 

“No, it’s great,” Skye insists, taking another bite. “I uh, actually prefer my s’mores burnt?”

 

“It’s fine,” he tells her. “You can just admit that I was right and we can all move on.”

 

She gives him a calculated look, and tosses the s’more onto the fire without breaking eye contact with him.

 

“Fine,” she spits out, as if it hurts her to say it. “Guy-whose-name-I-don’t-know, you were right.”

 

“I’m Grant,” he corrects, and she just stares at him through the flames like no one has ever told her that it’s rude. And he stares back at her. She doesn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes is like an invitation. Just docile enough so that she isn’t frightening, but there’s still an element of courage, and that’s what draws him in. “Where did you say you were from?”

 

“Los Angeles,” Jemma pipes up when Skye finds herself at a loss for words.

 

“That’s kind of far from here, isn’t it?” he asks suspiciously, tearing his gaze from Skye, to Jemma.

 

“Yes,” she agrees. “We came here for a job and they sent us out on this retreat. We’ll be here for the weekend, and then we go back to the city.”

 

It’s a situation that sounds all too familiar to him, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He feels Skye’s intense gaze on him still, but when he turns to her, she looks down at the lines that she’s been drawing in the dirt with a stick.

 

“What do you do, Grant?” Jemma asks. “Are you in the lumber industry?”

 

Skye groans and rolls her eyes. “Why would you assume that?”

 

“He lives in the woods, Skye!” Jemma protests, and then, in a quieter tone, she adds, “and look at those arms.”

 

“Oh my God, Jemma,” Skye mutters, burying her face in her hands, and Grant actually feels embarrassed enough that he forgot the original question.

 

“Okay, but what _do_ you do if you’re not a lumberjack?” Jemma persists, unaffected by whatever just happened.

 

“I’m actually unemployed,” Grant informs her, picking at some grass, and Buddy sniffs his hands to see if there’s any food.

 

“Unemployed and living in the woods?” Skye asks skeptically. “You’re homeless!”

 

_"Skye!"_  Jemma gasps. “That’s so rude!”

 

“Well?”

 

“Technically yeah,” Grant admits, and then rushes to explain. He tells them about how Garrett dumped him in the woods, but leaves out the part about him almost going to prison for burning down his parents’ house.

 

“So you were abducted,” Skye concludes, and he nods, not wanting to get too specific on what to call his situation.

 

“You could come back with us,” Jemma offers. “I mean, SHIELD is always-”

 

“Jemma!” Skye whisper-shouts, jabbing her friend in the stomach with her elbow.

 

“Oh, right,” Jemma corrects, looking flustered. “I meant Sears. Sears is always recruiting. Our boss, Phil, is putting together a team of sales-associates, and last I heard, he still needs a few more people.”

 

He takes a minute to assess the situation. Obviously this “Sears” job is code for this SHIELD thing. He doesn’t know what it is, but if he did accept, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s jumped head-first into an offer from a stranger. And as far as strangers go, Jemma and Skye seem like the not-creepy kind. It’s been months since he’s seen Garrett, but the creepy grins and vague references to the future should have been enough to turn him away.

 

“Um, okay,” Grant says, unsure of how to respond to Jemma’s offer. “It’s not like I have anything to lose.”

 

“Except your dog,” Skye corrects, patting Buddy. He’s amazed by how quick the dog was to abandon him for the girls.

 

“Yeah, except technically, he’s not even mine,” he admits. “The guy that dumped me here dumped him too.”

  
“Well that makes him yours,” Skye insists. “Finder’s keepers.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ward and skye adjust to the SHIELD life

Sure enough, the boss that they were talking about, Coulson, accepts him onto the team, but informs him that he’ll need to go to the SHIELD Academy, same as Skye and Jemma. He doesn’t mind- not in the slightest. Coulson said that he’d be sent on a scholarship because he was in military school, and he can keep Buddy (turns out that SHIELD has a K-9 unit), so he can't really complain.

 

His bunk couldn’t be farther from Skye and Jemma, since they’re each in different divisions of the Academy. Skye got accepted into Communications, Jemma into Sci-Ops, and himself in Operations. He’s supposed to be rooming with some guy named Antoine Triplett, and like everyone at this school, he doesn’t know him. It’s kind of comforting, the idea of a fresh start.

 

The Academy training is no different from military school in that the work is physically taxing, and the instructors are ruthless when it comes to drills, but that’s about where the similarities end. Here, they train the mind as much as the body. Pretty much everyone in Operations is training to become a specialist, a job that requires split second decisions, and the ability to adapt to any situation. One of the examples given was an agent that had to go undercover as a transgender prostitute in order to swipe a flash drive from a wealthy fast-food chain owner. While Grant couldn’t imagine what SHIELD would even  _need_  from that flash drive, he understood the point of the story. He needs to be comfortable with everything.

 

\---

 

It's a week into the first semester and Skye barges into his dorm unannounced. He doesn't even remember telling her where his dorm is, let alone giving her a key.

 

“You’re _Grant Ward?_ ” she demands. “Like, the kid that burnt down his parents’ house after ditching military school?”

 

And then she notices his roommate and turns a shade of pink. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry man, your secret’s safe with me,” Antoine (or Trip, as he prefers to be called) assures.

 

“How did you find out?” Ward presses, getting up from where he was sitting on his bed.

 

“I did some digging,” she says, and he just stares at her. “It was part of a project, okay?”

 

“Don’t tell anyone,” he warns, towering over her and trying his best to ignore the magnetic pull between them.

 

“I wouldn’t,” she promises, looking up at him and lowering her phone, which has a picture of him on it, back when he was like, sixteen years old and had a worse resting bitch face than he does now. He's a bit embarrassed that Skye's seen his mugshot, but it's too late to do anything about it now. “It’s not like I even know anyone here other than Jemma.”

 

“Hey!” Trip pipes up. “You know me!”

 

“Oh and your attention deprived room mate I guess,” she adds, peering around Grant to wave at Trip.

 

“His name’s Trip,” he informs her. “This is Skye.”

 

And that’s when Skye starts spending copious amounts of time in their dorm watching reality television instead of studying (and inherently distracting Trip and Grant from studying as well). Grant doesn’t mind her company at all, but he does start to feel afraid when he starts to actually look forward to watching “Say Yes to The Dress” or “My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding”.

 

\---

 

“I don’t know why I didn’t sign up for this years ago,” Skye announces as she enters their dorm. “For once I’m at the top of my class- oh yeah, by the way, I dropped out of high school.”

 

“That’s great Skye,” Grant says, stifling a yawn. “I think.”

 

She smiles and takes her place beside Grant on his bed, while Trip flicks on the television. The channel is always on TLC.

 

“You guys smell so bad,” she comments when she goes in to lean against Grant like she normally does when they watch television together. “Don’t you guys have a shower in here?”

 

“Today was leg day,” Trip groans from where he’s sprawled out on his bed. He hasn’t moved in hours. “Cut us some slack.”

 

“I can’t believe I’m sitting here watching Dance Moms with two sweaty limp noodles,” she mutters distastefully, crossing her arms.

 

“For the record, I can’t believe it either,” Trip agrees, and Skye throws one of Grant’s pillows at him as a result.

 

\---

 

Weeks go by, and Grant applies for a job as a barista at the coffee shop on campus. Skye had coerced him into it, insisting that the only requirement was that you needed to be hot. When he insisted that he wasn’t, she turned it into a bet. If she was right, he had to take the job, and if he was right, then she would have to come do morning drills with him for a week. It was lame, but he figured morning drills would be less gruelling with her there, and she’d hate him enough to stop making stupid bets with him.

 

Unfortunately, he loses, and has to keep the job for at least a month, according to Skye (which she obviously decided _after_ she won the bet). It’s the girliest job he could’ve gotten, and a few of his classmates go as far as to make fun of him about it. He doesn’t think too much of it though- he’d do the same if someone else in his class had gotten the job.

 

He gets used to it though. He likes the smell of coffee, especially after having to recover from a years worth of coffee-withdrawal. Not having to pay for his coffee is a definite bonus, especially when Skye texts him various times throughout the week saying that she’s pulling an all-nighter and needs reinforcements. Those nights, he often spends the night in her dorm, which is super against the rules, but her roommate, Bobbi, is always spending the night at her boyfriend’s dorm, so if one of them gets caught, it’s going to be too big of an issue to punish the individual students, so he’s never concerned about it.

 

\---

 

“Grant, can I ask you a question?” Skye asks one night in the darkness of her dorm. She's laying on the couch with her laptop, since she had finished her coffee hours ago and was running on fumes. He looks up from where he's reading his text book in her bed, and braces himself for the imminent heart-to-heart that they’re about to have. “If you had to choose between purple and blue, what colour would you choose?”

 

“Blue,” he decides almost instantly, disappointed with himself for thinking that she was about to tell him a secret.

 

“Okay,” she says, typing something into her laptop, before she slams it shut.

 

“Also I think I have a crush on you,” she mumbles, almost incoherently, as se dozes off. He's flustered, to say the least, but he's also giddier than he'd like to admit. It's like he's in middle-school all over again. 

 

He takes the duvet from her bed and drapes it over her sleeping body, letting his hand linger on her shoulder a moment longer than he should before he turns the lights out and walks back to his dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no slow-burn here ayyyyyyyyyyyyy


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skye and ward go on a double date with fitz and simmons

Grant stumbles into Skye’s dorm, slamming the door behind him. And that’s when he meets her roommate, Bobbi. The three of them have a stone-cold staredown, until Skye clears her throat and introduces them. Somehow, Bobbi isn’t quite what he expected. Based off of Skye’s running list of complaints, he had imagined her to be trashy and brusque-looking, but she wasn’t really.

 

“Clearly, you two have something important to talk about,” she says as she slips out the door behind Grant, leaving Skye with a somewhat shell-shocked expression.

 

“Ever heard of knocking?” Skye asks, kicking her feet up on her desk and leaning back in her chair. “What’s up?”

 

“Okay, you’re going to think this is crazy,” he warns her as he sits down on her bed.

 

“Try me,” she insists, smacking her gum in her mouth and trying way too hard to act casual for reasons that he doesn’t know (or that he does know and doesn’t want to think about).

 

“I told you about the guy that abducted me, right?” he asks her, and she nods. He’s glad, because he doesn’t really want to reiterate that whole situation to her all over again. “He’s here. At the Academy.”

 

“What?” She immediately drops her casual facade and leans forward. “What was he doing here?”

 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just saw him talking to one of the Operations professors and ran here to tell you.”

 

“Do you think he was looking for you?” she asks.

 

“I didn’t hear what they were talking about. It didn’t look like they were looking for anybody,” he explains. “Maybe he works for SHIELD.”

 

“It’s unlikely,” Skye protests. “I mean, what are the odds that the same guy that kidnapped you from federal prison- oh.”

 

“You think he was trying to recruit me all along?” he asks, and she nods.

 

“It’s not unheard of,” she explains. “Even some of the upper level agents have dodgy backstories. It would explain why Coulson was so unfazed when he heard that you were broken out of federal prison.”

 

“And why the feds haven’t come looking for me,” he adds, and she nods. Everything makes sense now, but he still can’t shake the vague insecurity that he feels, knowing that the man that left him for dead was still lurking around.

 

“Hey,” she says, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder gently. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” he insists, meeting her gaze and smiling. “Sorry for barging in like that-”

 

“No, don’t apologize,” she interrupts. “It was important.”

 

“I think your roommate hates me,” he speculates, and she laughs, leaning back and withdrawing her hand. His shoulder feels cold and lonely where she had been touching him.

 

“That was fifty shades of awkward,” she agrees, grinning so widely that it’s contagious. “But you probably won’t see her again for another four months. She’s never here.”

 

“Good- I don’t know how I’d dig myself out of that one,” he muses, and she laughs.

 

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she reassures him. “You’re hot enough that she’ll forget all about it.”

 

He remembers the last time she said he was hot enough, and it got him stuck with a job that he’s overqualified and underpaid for.

 

\---

 

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend,” she announces as she kicks his door shut, armed with snacks.

 

“Which one of us?” Trip asks, eyeing the popcorn twists. She tosses him the bag.

 

“Not you,” she informs him, although she can’t stifle her grin. She collapses onto Grant’s bed beside him and hands him the beef jerky that he wanted. “Jemma and Fitz started dating.”

 

He remembers meeting Fitz a few times when Skye invited him along on their group hangouts, which consisted of more girl talks than he’d ever want to get accustomed to, along with way too many finishing each other’s sentences, and of course, who could forget the constant science bickering? Despite that, he liked the two scientists. Sure they were annoying, but it was in a loveable little brother and sister kind of way.

 

“And they asked us out on a double date,” Skye concludes. “Can you believe it? They just assumed that we were already dating.”

 

“Well you’re always in our dorm,” Trip reminds her. Grant almost laughs at how invested his roommate is in all this drama. “And when you aren’t here, Grant’s at your dorm.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s what best friends _do_ , right?” she protests, looking to Grant for back up.

 

“We’re best friends?” he asks, and she gives him a look, as if it’s obvious. Of course, he considered her to be his best friend, but he didn’t know that the feeling was reciprocated.

 

“Just do it, Grant,” she pleads, and he can’t say no.

 

“When is it?”

 

“Tonight,” she tells him, biting her lip. “Sorry for the short notice. They just told me before I got here. Wear something nice, pick me up around seven?”

 

“Fine,” he relents, and she pecks him on the cheek before fleeing from the dorm.

 

“That explains the snacks,” Trip concludes, crunching on his popcorn twists and continuing to watch America’s Next Top Model unabashedly, even though Skye had left.

 

\---

 

When he arrives to pick her up at her dorm, she’s wearing a low-cut burgundy dress with gold bangle bracelets adorning her left wrist. He doesn’t even try to conceal the shock that he feels.

 

“You wore an actual suit!” she shrieks with delight, nearly jumping up and down.

 

“Well, you told me to wear something nice,” he reminds her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. He knows this isn’t a _real_ date, but he’ll make it the best pretend date she’s ever had. “You look amazing.”

 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, super spy,” she replies, beaming up at him as he leads her down the hallway.

 

\---

 

She gives him vague directions that land them in some field in the middle of nowhere, in a truck that isn’t even theirs. However, she _insists_ that they’re supposed to be in this field, so they get out of the truck.

 

He can hear Jemma and Fitz bickering from a mile away. Why Skye didn’t tell him to park a bit closer, he doesn’t know, but compared to the morning drills that he does on a daily basis, walking a mile is nothing. Skye on the other hand, doesn’t stop complaining about having to walk a mile in high heels.

 

As they approach their friends, Grant realizes that they’ve set up a picnic. Skye and Jemma start squealing and gushing over each other’s hair and dresses, and he just sits down beside Fitz, who’s happy to jump right in with the excessive compliments.

 

“So wait, why did we all get dressed up to go to the middle of nowhere?” Grant asks. Jemma and Skye share a look.

 

“Because it’s _fun_ ,” Skye insists, as if it’s obvious. He looks to Fitz for support, but gets none. Apparently dressing up for no reason is fun. “Not that you’d know, old man.”

 

“Whatever,” he grumbles, but comes around once Jemma opens up the champagne and Fitz starts passing out sandwiches.

 

\---

 

Grant knows better than to drink when he _knows_ he’s going to end up being the designated driver for everyone (how did Jemma and Fitz get here?), but he lets Skye drink his share. Actually, she pesters him until he hands over the champagne glass.

 

So naturally, at midnight, Skye is completely wasted after drinking half the bottle of champagne as well as one too many of the beers that Grant found in the back of the truck. Fitz and Jemma are drunk enough that he gives them a ride back to the campus, but from there, he lets them find their own way.

 

But he walks Skye home, like a true gentleman. He puts his arm around her and gives her his jacket and everything.

 

When they get to her door, she clings to the front of his shirt like a lifeline, tugging him down to whisper something in his ear.

 

“I told Jemma that we were dating,” she whispers loudly, her lips grazing his earlobe.

 

“What do you mean?” he whispers back.

 

“Before she asked us to go with her and Fitz on the double date!” she reminds him, as if it’s common knowledge. “I told her we were dating.”

 

“Why?” he asks her, not expecting much of an answer.

 

“Because I wish we were,” she admits before releasing him to unlock the door. “You coming in?”

 

Because he’s concerned about what kind of trouble she might get into, he follows her inside, relieved when Bobbi isn’t there. He shuts the door behind her, and then she turns on him, like a panther or some other predator animal. She pins him up against the door and kisses him.

 

Sure, he had wanted to kiss Skye for a while now, but not like this. He wanted- and still does want- for it to be real. Her hands roam his chest, and he inhales sharply before pulling away.

 

“Skye,” he breathes, his hands lingering on her shoulders, even though he’s disgusted with himself for not stopping her sooner.

 

“Come on,” she mumbles. “I thought you wanted this.”

 

“I _do_ want this,” he agrees. “But you’re drunk, Skye.”

 

“I am **_not_** drunk,” she slurs, making a face.

 

“Okay, well how about, we get you into bed, and tomorrow- if you’re still up to it, we’ll pick up where we left off?” he suggests. She makes another grumpy face, but relents. He presses the palm of his hand to the small of her back, and leads her over to her bed, taking her heels when she hands them to him. She lays down while watching him with vaguely distrusting eyes, but he doesn’t let it get to him. He tucks the blanket around her tightly, and is about to leave when she catches him by the wrist.

 

“Stay,” she commands, tugging gently. He looks at the clock on her bedside table. It’s late, but it’s Friday night and it’s better than inevitably going home to watch Toddlers In Tiaras. He sits down on the mattress, which buckles under his added weight, but she isn’t satisfied yet.

 

“No,” she protests. “Cuddle with me.”

 

He looks down at her, and she’s staring back at him in the darkness, with her hair splayed across her pillow, and he’s obviously not going to take advantage of her, but he figures that as far as drunken requests go, cuddling is pretty mild and not-reckless.

 

So he loosens his tie and lays down beside her. From there, she turns to face him and eagerly snuggles up to him. He’s apprehensive about where to put his hands, since he doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea, but if they’re sleeping together anyways-

 

“You can touch me, I’m not going to get mad,” she insists. He doesn’t think she’s in the right mind to make that call, but he drapes one arm over her waist, and the other she uses like a pillow. She sighs into his chest and he sees her close her eyes. He presses his lips to her forehead.

  
“Goodnight, Skye,” he whispers, before feeling relaxed enough to fall asleep as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> grant has another run-in with garrett and skye has a hangover

When she wakes up, she’s groggier than normal, and takes more than a few minutes to take in everything. He can see her trying to piece everything together.

 

“Did we-”

 

“No,” he assures her quickly, and she nods slowly. “You just wanted to cuddle.”

 

“You’re a good cuddler,” she recalls, sitting up slowly and putting a hand to her forehead. And then beelines for the toilet. He follows her, holding her hair back while she pukes violently.

 

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing,” she mutters before she retches again. He rubs little circles into her back.

 

“It’s fine,” he consoles, sitting down on the porcelain tile beside her. She looks at him with those distrusting eyes again, and he wonders why.

 

“What else happened?” she presses. “I must’ve done _something_ that I’ll regret for the next year or so.”

 

“You kissed me,” he offers, and her face goes slack with disbelief.

 

“Well,” she says, after a period of silence. “I don’t really regret that one.”

 

He looks at her and kind of wishes that they weren’t having this conversation on her bathroom floor while looking after her hangover.

 

“You’re cute when you’re stressed,” she adds, patting his cheek before reeling over again. He holds her hair back so she doesn’t get puke all over it- he can already imagine the complaining.

 

“Let’s talk about this after you’re feeling a bit better,” he suggests, but she shakes her head and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

 

“No, I’m fine if I don’t move,” she insists. She gets up and pours herself a glass of water, and Grant feels bad for not getting it for her. She swallows a couple painkillers before walking slowly back to her bed and starts taking off her jewelry that she had slept in. He watches her in silence.

 

“Okay, so I’m kind of getting the sense that my feelings for you are pretty one-sided,” she admits, finally, as she leans back against her outrageous amount of pillows (half of which she had likely stolen off Bobbi’s bed).

 

“Why’s that?” he asks, perplexed by her question.

 

“Well, I’ve made my feelings pretty clear like five times,” she points out. “And every time, you either change the subject or you put it off for later.”

 

He feels like he’s been winded. Of course it would come across that way to her.

 

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” he promises, taking her hands in his. “I just wanted to be sure that your feelings were real, because every time you told me, you were-”

 

He pauses, unsure of how to finish his sentence when she’s glaring at him like that.

 

“-not completely aware of what you were doing,” he concludes, even though it sounds just as bad as it did in his head. She gives him a knowing smirk, so he continues. “It would’ve felt like I was taking advantage of you.”

 

She softens a little and smiles at him.

 

“Would you feel like you were taking advantage of me now?” she asks in a meek tone that makes his heart melt.

 

“I guess not,” he admits, and he sees her chest rise and fall a few times before she kisses him on the cheek.

 

“Wait here,” she says, walking back to the bathroom, and he’s worried that she’s going to puke again, until he hears the sink. It’s not until he hears her tapping her toothbrush on the edge of the sink that he realizes that she went to brush her teeth. It’s so typical of Skye that he can’t help but grin to himself.

 

She returns to him and runs her hand along his cheek, and for the first time, he lets her kiss him, and he kisses back. It’s slow and sweet, and tastes like mint (good thing she brushed her teeth). He runs his fingers through her hair, and isn’t surprised by how soft it is, because just days before, she had demanded that he braid it for her.

 

When they break apart, she leans his forehead against hers and closes his eyes.

 

“I hate to ruin the moment,” she says, leaning away and looking up at him with bright eyes. “But you need to leave, because I need to change and I seriously need a nap.”

 

\---

 

The second time he sees Garrett, he knows it isn’t just a crazy coincidence. He lingers in the study hall a bit longer than usual, watching Garrett while pretending to read his textbook and scribbling down random words to pass as notes.

As Garrett gets closer, Grant starts writing more coherent sentences that somehow all link back to Skye, and the next time he looks up, Garrett is standing right over him, and slides into the seat across from him.

 

“Nice try kid,” he whispers, with that wide grin accompanied with dark eyes that make Grant’s stomach drop a little. “But you haven’t turned a single page in that damned book since I got here. So either you really don’t get the topic, or you’re spying on me.”

 

Grant doesn’t say anything- nothing comes to mind at all. If Skye were here, she’d have enough snarky comebacks for the both of them, combined, but he’s drawing a total blank.

 

“I gotta admit, I’m impressed you landed your sorry ass here without my help,” the man admits, raising his eyebrows a bit. “But don’t you forget who busted you out of federal prison.”

 

“I would’ve gotten myself out if it wasn’t you,” Grant opposes, and the man laughs so loudly, that nearly every student turns to look at them.

 

“Yeah right,” he laughs, and then holds out his hand for Grant to shake. “I’m John Garrett. Don’t forget it.”

 

\---

 

“Skye, we need to leave,” he announces after he’s sure that Bobbi isn’t lurking in their apartment. “How do you feel about road trips?”

 

“Okay, first of all, what’s happening?” she asks, unconcerned by him pacing around her room. “Second of all, when did we become a _‘we’_?”

 

“First of all, I saw Garrett again, and he definitely knows that I’m here,” he informs her. “And I just assumed that you would want to come since you’ve been following me around all year.”

 

“Okay,” she says slowly, getting up and grabbing his shoulders so he stops pacing. “You don’t need to run away _just_ yet.”

 

“Skye, he told me to remember who broke me out of prison,” he tells her. “If that doesn’t sound creepy to you, then I don’t know what does.”

 

“Okay, fair enough,” she admits. “But maybe he’s just stopping by- let’s not jump to conclusions, okay?”

 

“You sound like Jemma,” he tells her, and she grins before pushing him away again.

 

\---

 

At the end of the semester, the school has a carnival to celebrate the end of finals. Sure enough, Skye had been right- Garrett had left just days after Grant’s giant meltdown. He’s glad that he didn’t run away this time, maybe even a little proud of himself.

 

It’s Skye and Grant’s first time out together publically, since they typically prefer to just stay in or go off-campus to obscure, hole-in-the-wall diners, sometimes with Fitz and Jemma, but usually alone.

 

It’s loud and busy, and unlike anything that Grant would’ve expected the Sci-Ops students to organize. He had expected lame, science-y games like “guess the radioactive isotope” or “pin the tail on the freaky alien that none of us are supposed to know about”. However, instead they have the generic games that from the movies, where the guy has to throw the ball to win the giant teddy bear for the girl, and the giant ferris wheel, and the greasy food trucks lined up for blocks.

 

And Skye wants _all of it_.

 

As a teenager, he vowed to never become _that guy_ , who throws balls at cans to win a teddy bear for a girl, but she only needs to ask him once to convince him. That, and she looks up at him under her eyelashes and he’s helpless.

 

She leans against the bench while he trades his tickets for a ball. She smacks her gum while he adjusts his aim and calculates the exact angle to topple every can, because he knows that _she_ knows that he hates it when she does that.

 

“You gunna throw it?” asks a guy that Grant recognizes as Bobbi’s boyfriend, Lance Hunter. And wherever Lance is Bobbi is sure to follow. He rolls his eyes and focuses on throwing. He can throw. He’s going to be a specialist, he needs to be able to hit a bullseye on a target from a mile away. And here, he’s throwing a ball from four feet away, how hard can it be?

 

Hard enough, apparently, because he misses and hits the idiot in charge of the station, who was walking across at the exact moment that he decides to throw the ball.

 

“A little warning next time, pal?” the man shouts, rubbing his arm where the ball had hit him. Grant glances over at Skye, who looks like she’s going to cry from laughing so hard. Luckily, the station-supervisor guy hands him the ball and lets him try again, and this time, he doesn’t miss.

 

He hands the teddy bear to Skye, who makes him carry it around for the rest of the night, of course.

 

They save the ferris wheel for last, and wait in line with Fitz and Jemma. Fitz is carrying around a giant stuffed monkey who he affectionately named Henry, and later, Grant finds out that Jemma had won the monkey for Fitz.

 

While riding the ferris wheel, Skye leans her head on Grant’s shoulder, and he kisses her forehead. In class, they had warned them about balancing work-life and personal-life, and about the mental repercussions that came with being a SHIELD agent, but thanks to SHIELD, he had met Skye, and if that wasn’t a sure sign that they’d make it, then he didn’t know what was.

 

\---

 

He walks her back to her dorm afterwards, and lets her drag him inside this time. He passes her the teddy bear, and she places it on the bed.

 

“I can cuddle with him when you’re not here,” she suggests, and he laughs at the idea. “No, I’m serious, you guys have like the same face. Hold him up so I can get a picture.”

 

He sits down beside the teddy bear and tries to make a similar face to make her happy, and she laughs at the picture before showing it to him. He tries not to notice any similarities although there are a few.

 

“Do you still want to go on a road trip?” she asks him as she snuggles up to him. He lays down and pulls her close to him.

 

“Maybe,” he says. “Where do you want to go?”

 

“Everywhere,” she replies confidently, like she’s thought about it for a long time. He gives her a look, so she continues. “I don’t really have anywhere to go this summer, and you’ve never mentioned your family so I just assumed-”

 

“Hey,” he says, cutting her off. “It’s okay, you’re right. I don’t have anywhere to go either. Let’s leave on Sunday.”

 

She beams up at him, and opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself and kisses him instead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the beginning of the road-trip au

They rent an SUV for their road-trip, since neither of them are really sure on how to steal a vehicle without getting caught.

“Where are we going first?” Grant asks as he starts the engine. Skye had offered to drive, but he wasn’t sure if he really trusted her driving abilities (not that he’d tell her that). She has a map spread across the dashboard, and she traces it with one finger.

“How about you just trust me and I’ll tell you where to go?” she suggests, smirking at him from the passenger’s seat. He doesn’t really like the idea of not knowing where he’s going or what to look for, but he trusts her.

“Okay,” he relents, and she folds up the map and stuffs it in the glove box. “Just give me a bit of a heads up when we’re turning and stuff.”

“Turn left out of the parking lot,” she orders him, grinning as she tries out her new powers over him. He almost always turns right when he’s going off campus (and she knows it), so everything to the left is unknown to him.

\---

They drive until they run out of gas (and Grant’s actually glad, because he’s starting to get sick of Skye’s playlist), and Skye ditches him to go get snacks and to go to the washroom. He stands around idly while he fills the rental car with gas.

“Hey kid,” says that prickly voice that he’s grown resentful towards. “Thought you could get away, huh?”

“What are you going here?” Grant demands, becoming defensive quickly, and hoping that Skye will take her time with choosing her snacks.

“I was in the area,” Garrett says casually, leaning against his own car and crossing his arms. “Thought I’d come check up on my investment.”

“Investment?” asks Grant, and Garrett _laughs_. It chills Grant to the bone.

“You honestly thought I’d bust you out of federal prison and pay your tuition, and then not get anything out of it?” he demands ominously, with a shell shocked look that makes Grant’s skin crawl.

“I didn’t ask for this!” Grant insists, getting angrier by the second and using the wing mirrors on his car to make sure that Skye is still safely inside the gas station.

“Oh, but you did,” Garrett points out. “As soon as you agreed to come with me.”

“You dumped me in a forest and left me for dead,” Grant reminds him through gritted teeth. “And you said, you’d come back for me, and that you wouldn’t care if I was there or not when you got back.”

“Yeah, and then you came crawling back to me by enrolling in the SHIELD Academy, in Operations no less. You know what they say, _if you love something, let it go,_ ” Garrett explains, grinning a smile that doesn’t reach his dark, lifeless looking eyes.

He hears the door of the gas station open. Why couldn’t she have stayed inside?

“Here comes your girl,” Garrett comments. “Make up your mind before I make it up for you.”

“What do I have to make up my mind about?” Grant hisses. “What do you want from me?”

“I can’t tell you about it here, you idiot,” Garrett says. Skye comes over to them, and has _no_ idea who Garrett is, and she slips an arm around Grant’s waist and he really wishes she hadn’t.

“Yes or no, Grant?” Garrett demands, and Skye looks from him to Garrett, trying to piece together what’s going on. When Grant doesn’t answer, Garrett lunges at him without warning, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him down against the hood of his car. Skye screams.

One of the station attendants calls a number, presumably 9-1-1, and Skye pulls a gun out of the waistband of her jeans. Grant hadn’t noticed it, but he doesn’t really notice anything other than how difficult it is to breathe.

Skye hardly hesitates when she shoots Garrett, and she shoots him four times. Not to kill him, but enough to seriously slow him down. She hauls his body off of Grant's, and _yells_ at Grant to get in the car, before picking up her bag of snacks off the ground where she had dropped it in favour of her gun. She runs around to the passenger’s side and slamming the door shut. Grant doesn’t even wait for her to get her seatbelt on before he wheels out of the parking lot.

“What just happened?!” she cries as he turns a corner and speeds down the road.

“Where did you learn how to shoot a gun?!” he shouts back, gripping the steering wheel tighter as he starts driving faster and faster, frequently checking his rear-view mirror for any signs of people coming after them.

“You think that they don’t teach us self-defense in Communications?” she retorts, pressing the heel of her hands into her eyes. “We’re never going to get on Coulson’s team, are we?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, slowing the car to a normal speed now that they’re a safer distance from the gas station. He pulls over to collect himself, and finally catches his breath. “But I think it’s safe to say that we should stay away from SHIELD for a while.”

“Why? Who was he?” she presses, letting her hands fall into her lap.

“That’s the guy that dumped me in the woods,” he tells her, and her expression changes from terrified to completely shocked. “I guess he works for SHIELD.”

“What did he want from you?” she asks.

“I don’t know, like some kind of compensation for what he did for me, I guess,” he explains. Her expression shifts again, this time towards compassion and concern. She cups his cheek gently.

“That guy did _nothing_ for you, okay? He’s manipulating you, don’t forget that,” she asserts, staring into his eyes with such intensity that it almost makes him nervous. “He’s trying to make you think that you owe him, but you don’t. He could’ve killed you, Grant.”

“Thanks, Skye,” he mumbles, leaning in to kiss her quickly before starting the car again.

\---

The rest of their trip isn’t nearly as eventful as their first stop. They drive in stunned silence for about a mile before Skye puts her playlist back on, and opens up her snacks.

“Seriously? How are you eating right now? You just shot a guy.”

“Comfort food,” she explains. “Look it up sometime. And besides, it’s not like I did anything illegal, I didn’t kill him, and it was self-defense. What are they gunna do about it?”

She did have a point, as much as Grant hates to admit it. Obviously, her initial hysteria has worn down significantly, and now she’s the sensible one between the two of them.

They check into a motel off the highway late at night, not because Grant is nervous about getting caught, but because it’s the closest place to stay and if he has to be crammed into that stupid SUV for another minute, he’s going to explode. Also Skye needs to pee, _again_ (he advised her against drinking her entire soda in ten minutes), and isn’t picky about where.

Their room has two beds, one for each of them, because they’ve never slept together through the night before and Grant wasn’t sure about what she was comfortable with when he was booking their room. They flick through the television channels (Grant secretly hopes that “Cake Boss” is on), but the motel only has like, three channels, and they’re all news channels. Skye turns off the television, and crawls under her covers, facing Grant in the opposite bed.

 

They stare at each other for about half a minute before coming to the conclusion that this is stupid, and Skye gets up and snuggles in with Grant.

“I used to stay in places like this all the time,” she comments quietly, rubbing the quilted blanket between two fingers. “The itchy blankets, the single-ply toilet paper… I’ve seen it all.”

Her words raise a million questions, but clearly it’s a touchy subject for her, so he gives her all the time she needs.

“I was an orphan,” she explains. “Technically, I still am, I guess. Anyways, when I was sixteen, I ran away from the orphanage and I lived on the streets, picking up odd jobs with computers, and I pretty much lived in motels until I could afford my van. Coulson found me, and when he offered me a job at a reliable organization with a reliable paycheck, I couldn’t refuse.”

He takes a second to process her information before he holds her a little tighter and kissing her forehead.

“What’s your tragic backstory?” Skye presses when he doesn’t offer up the information immediately. He’s reluctant to tell her, but she told him hers, so he feels obligated.

“I had an older brother, who used to bully me and my younger brother, over stupid little things, like a piece of cake, or something. He’d beat me up all the time, to get me to beat up my little brother, Thomas,” he tells her. The next part would be a little more difficult to explain, but he swallows his insecurities and continues. “When I was sixteen, my parents sent me off to military school, but I ran away, stole a truck, and burnt their house down with my older brother in it.”

Noting the slightly horrified expression on her face, he adds, “he was fine. He was going to have me tried as an adult, and that’s when I met Garrett. He busted me out of federal prison, and then dumped me in the woods.”

He expects her to get up and leave, or at _least_ show some sign of discomfort or fear about what she’s just heard, but she doesn’t. She gives him the same sympathetic look that she had given him in the car earlier when he had told her about Garrett the first time, and she reaches out to stroke his hair gently.

“You’re not as bad of a guy as you think, Grant,” she assures him, and her words resonate deeply within him, not because he believes her (far from it, actually), but because it’s _her_ that’s saying it.

“I love you, Skye,” he tells her, for the first time. He’s been nervous about saying it, but he’s felt it for months. She gives him an astonished look, so he adds, “you don’t need to say it back.”

 **  
**“I love you too,” she replies, and his heart actually skips. He’s not sure when he became such a softie (probably around the time that he started liking “Married at First Sight”), but he leans in and kisses her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> end of the road trip au, start of christmas au

They stay on the run for nearly a month and a half, staying at more dodgy motels all over the country, picking up odd jobs wherever they can to get some extra cash, since Grant’s funds are mostly spent on gas. They’re far from living comfortably, but they get by.

 

Grant doesn’t say anything as he hands over the last of his cash for gas, and walks back out to the pump to fill his car, which he decided he’s not going to actually give back to the rental place, since he’d be overwhelmed with late fees and damage fees and all that. And he needs a car.

 

“Grant Ward?” asks a voice from the pump next to him. Immediately, he gets defensive, because last time a stranger started a conversation with him at the gas station, he nearly died. However, John Garrett doesn’t really seem like the type of guy to drive a cherry-red Corvette. He recognizes the face as soon as it comes into view, and lets his guard down a little.

 

“Coulson? What are you doing here?” The older agent looks out of place, wearing a suit in a small town in Indiana. “No disrespect, sir, but you don’t seem like the kind of guy who goes on road-trips to towns that no one knows about.”

 

“You might be surprised,” Coulson replies, smiling back at Grant, his eyes crinkling in a way that convinces Grant that his smile is genuine. “I came to collect you and Skye.”

 

It’s enough to reignite the dread that makes his stomach drop. Apparently, it’s obvious.

 

“You two are still a part of my team, you know,” Coulson reminds him, and Grant feels the relief as quickly as it had disappeared. “Even if you did shoot John Garrett.”

 

“Sir, I-”

 

“Don’t worry, you were doing us all a favour,” Coulson assures, leaving Grant feeling more confused than before. “It was just the thing to knock him down a few pegs. He was so sure that this was going to work out for him, and it’s good to see something blow up in his face for once. He's fine, by the way.”

 

“You knew?” Grant demands, astonished that his commanding officer allowed this to happen.

 

“Garrett’s been going on about this for months,” Coulson explains. “I’ve always known that his methods are… unorthodox to say the least. When Skye and Simmons told me about you, I knew it was too much of a coincidence, so I looked into it. Determined to get back at Garrett, I took you under my wing, in a sense.”

 

Skye emerges from the gas station and greets Coulson like an old friend, running over to hug him. It seems a little inappropriate to Grant, but he’s always known that their relationship was special.

 

Skye leaves Grant in favour of driving with Coulson (or A.C., as she likes to call him) to the team’s headquarters, but kisses him sweetly before she leaves, apparently unaffected by the fact that her commanding officer is only a few feet away from them. He’s grateful for the silence for once, although he doesn’t think that being alone with his thoughts is a good idea.

 

Occasionally, Skye will turn around and wave at him from the passenger’s seat of Coulson’s car, grinning widely. He tries hard to focus on the road in favour of her hair blowing in the wind. He smiles and waves back at her, and she turns around again.

 

\---

 

When he had heard about Coulson’s headquarters either through rumours or directly from his commanding officer, he had expected some kind of bunker, based off the words “lounge”, “bunks”, or “science lab”, and he knew it was a gift from Nick Fury himself. However, he had not expected it to be on a plane.

 

“Sir, where should I leave the car?” he asks, hauling his bag and Skye’s out of the back seat.

 

“You can park it next to Lola,” Coulson decides, gesturing to the empty spot next to his Corvette. Grant opens his mouth to make a comment about him giving his girly sports car a girls name, but Skye shoots him a look, so he keeps the thought to himself.

 

“I was planning on giving you two separate bunks,” Coulson explains as he lifts the ramp and leads them up the staircase to the catwalk. “But clearly, you two are… involved, so you can share a bunk if you’d like. It might be a little crowded, but I’m sure you can manage.”

 

This time, Skye seems to actually look a little embarrassed, and has the decency to look down at her feet.

 

“It’s okay,” Coulson excuses, since the awkwardness is nearly tangible. “Just don’t be having sex on the Bus.”

 

Grant nearly chokes. Of all the conversations he did _not_ want to have with Coulson, that one was at the top of the list. Even Skye looks uncomfortable this time, and stares down at her feet. Coulson just smiles on, and leaves them to their own devices in the lounge.

 

Fitz and Jemma emerge from their bunks, giving Grant a pretty good idea as to which ones are still available. Skye gets absorbed into whatever conversation they pick up, and Grant just listens idly while he looks around the bus for escape routes, possible weapons if a situation broke out, hiding places… The things they taught him  to look for when he was in the Academy.

 

Jemma says something along the lines of “aren’t you excited, Grant?” and he almost doesn’t notice, until the group is staring up at him silently, waiting for his answer.

 

“It’s like Christmas,” he deadpans, and Skye rolls her eyes before changing the subject.

 

\---

 

When Christmas actually _does_ come around, Grant (or Ward, as everyone calls him now, except Skye) doesn’t really expect anything in terms of celebration. They’re all field agents, and they hardly have time for proper meals, because they’re so busy all the time. Usually, on holidays, they celebrate by playing karaoke (and they all let Coulson hog the mic, because it's hilarious trying to watch him try to sing "I Will Survive"). Yet somehow, Coulson makes time for a proper Christmas dinner, with a turkey and everything. Grant is skeptical as to how the meal was prepared, since the kitchenette oven is way too small for cooking an entire turkey. They all sit down in the lounge for dinner, since there isn't really a dining table, and swap stories about how things were before they became SHIELD agents.

 

At least, everyone except for Grant. Everyone is having fun, and his only stories would just be a total bummer. He's happy to listen to everyone else's stories, especially when Skye's face lights up when she talks about the Christmas celebrations that the nuns at St. Agnes would organize.

 

Later that night, he pulls out a little box for Skye, and grins at the way her face drops.

 

“Don’t freak out, I’m not proposing yet,” he assures her, passing her the velvet box. She side eyes him, but opens the box anyways to reveal a silver necklace with a blue crystal pendant on it. He had bought it for her in Peru, when the team was retrieving their first 0-8-4, but held on to it as a Christmas gift.

 

“Grant…,” she whispers, lifting the silver chain from the box. “This is beautiful.”

 

“You like it?” She looks up at him, and her eyes are a little damp and it makes his heart melt.

 

“Of course I do,” she replies, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “I got you something too. It’s downstairs though.”

 

She leads him down to the cargo hold (more like she _drags_ him down), grinning the entire way, and it’s _contagious._

 

She opens up the door to the SUV that they had stolen months ago, disguising it by outfitting it with matte paint and some random numbers on the side, and of course, the SHIELD logo. It was Fitz’s idea, and even Melinda May was impressed with the outcome.

 

She steps aside from the door, and for a second, he’s confused, until Buddy comes bursting out of the vehicle, wagging his tail and wearing a new leather collar (even the tags have SHIELD logos on them).

 

“Buddy!” Grant exclaims, dropping to his knees as the labrador retriever bounds over to him. “This can’t be allowed, can it?”

 

“Coulson was reluctant,” she admits, watching him play with his dog. “But I convinced him that this dog was fundamental to our team, or whatever.”

 

“You’re amazing,” he tells her as she sits down beside him to cuddle with Buddy (and Grant too, just not as much).

  
“Thanks, I get that a lot,” she replies, grinning at him. “You’re not so bad yourself.”


End file.
